We had a late start… just as we were about to leave, the guy arrived to repair the solar panels. Big deal, as the hot water is tied to them! We obviously waited for him to finish his work. Victor pitched in to help him clean up and he asked Victor if he wanted to work with him!

So finally, off we went, although a bit delayed. A couple of things to return at the Brico were the driving force for today’s outing, which we managed, but… because of our late start, we weren’t able to make it to the Euronics store in time before they closed for lunch. We decided to spend our own lunch hour enjoying the local cuisine, while waiting for the stores to reopen. When in Rome, right?

So, as Victor took off on the route, I searched for places for lunch to pass the time. But the drive was too fast, so suddenly the area was upon us. I picked the place closest to the Euronics store that wasn’t a sushi restaurant, not even having time to read about the restaurant, just trusting. I quickly updated the GPS, which took us the wrong way. We came to a point where we could see a sign for the Il Ristoro del Vinturo, straight ahead of us, but Waze told us to turn right. We put our faith in the GPS, and it failed us horribly this time. We found ourselves on a long, bumpy gravel driveway.

We navigated back to the sign for Il Ristoro del Vinturo, and found ourselves driving down yet another path / driveway towards a horse stable. Hmmm, still no sign for il ristorante. We parked and strolled across the property, following our noses (the smell of yumminess was in the air!) to a place whose sign declared “Benvenuti!” So we took the chance and walked in. It certainly looks like a restaurant! A table of guys, in varying ages, stopped mid-conversation as we entered. Uh, maybe this is a private place? Nope, there are other tables to the right, sparsely populated by other characters. A lovely gentleman rose from the table of ragazzi, and greeted us, quizzically… I said haltingly, trying to make sure I got the name right, Il… Ristoro del Venturo? He pointed to the floor: é qua! he grinned. Ah, arriviamo! I exclaimed. Still seemingly surprised, he gestured to a table, and asked white or red (we said bianco) before disappearing into the kitchen. Our host promptly brought back a carafe of white wine, along with a bottle each of sparkling and flat water, which he set on the table with a wordless flourish.

When he returned again, it was with an adorable dark-skinned gentleman who our host presumed we’d need for translation. No, proceed in Italian first, we’ll see if we need it! He began to recite today’s offerings, but we stopped him as we heard the meat dishes. I shook my head and waggled my finger (like a good italian): siamo vegetariani! So he ticked off the vegetarian choices, which were plentiful. With his advice, we settled on a zuppa di farro and the ravioli with sage butter sauce as our primi. Then a gorgonzola walnut risotto and a risotto di funghi for secondi. We thanked our would-be translator, and off they went to prepare our food.

But first, first… out came these little heavenly delights they called pasta fritta. We asked, so we could be on the lookout for them elsewhere: it’s pasta dough (or did he say pizza dough?) dropped into hot oil. They looked like little blonde hush puppies but were super flavorful. Dio mio, they were delicious! The wine, however, was most definitely NOT. In some places, it’s rather rude and pretentious to order a bottle, especially if you already have a carafe of the house stuff. But I noticed one of the guys at the big table had a bottle. I’ll brave it, as not only was the wine rather harsh, there were… things… floating in it as well. I’m sure they didn’t drink much of it, but still. I asked Victor if he’d be too embarrassed if we asked for a bottle, and he shrugged, which means no, not too much. I asked for the carta dei vini which I was surprised to see was quite extensive. One whole page said vini da Pierluigi. We’d have to ask about that winery, if they have a whole page dedicated to them. When our host came back, I was pointing to a vermentino, hesitating. Ah! I’ll bring you a very good vermentino; he was back with it in a flash. And it was. Very good indeed!

Everything else was incredible, too. They put the zuppa di farro in from of Victor and the ravioli on my side: three beautiful, bountifully stuffed little packages. When he next walked by, and raised his eyebrows to inquire, it’s okay? I rolled my eyes and said, squisito (just like it sounds, exquisite)!!!! The ravioli dough wasn’t as super light as some we’ve had, but I rather liked how substantial it was, and how properly al dente. Then Victor proffered a spoon of the soup to me across the table, his eyes glazing over. It was a hot day so we were a bit skeptical about having soup… but wow. It was divine. Thick and creamy, and the farro was just enough, and just perfectly cooked. Next time our host came by, after we had the risotto, we again indicated how much we were enjoying everything, and he stopped and cocked his head, like he’d just thought of something else… funghi fritti? Si, I nodded. He held up 2 fingers: 2 portions? No, we said, one is fine, so much food! The risottos were both amazing, creamy and very distinct. The funghi was earthy but not heavy, and the gorgonzola was impossibly creamy. We couldn’t finish either of them.

At one point, the room fell silent, the previously boisterous conversations at the big table of guys came to an abrupt halt. Ah, their food had arrived and with it, the sounds of silence and enjoyment.

We finally talked a bit with our waitress, after our mouths were empty and our bellies were full! We told her we had the rental in Poggio, and she said, oh I have a friend there at Namaste! We gasped, really? Everyone seems to know Namaste. It turns out she’s Lithuanian, too, from the same town as one of the owners, Zivile. Even before we’ve met them, the Namaste people have been a presence in our lives. We told her of the friends we’d met two days prior, also Lithuanian, also from the same town as Zivile.

Oh, yes, then the funghi fritti arrived. We can’t possibly eat another bite, we think. And then, we do. And the fried porcini are somehow light as air, even on such full stomachs. Then a coffee and an amaro to help digest all that yumminess. The amaro, which I’m certain is made locally, maybe on the premises?, was so good I asked to buy a bottle.

And the capper, the best part was that as we were leaving, our waitress, Ruta, mentioned to our host where we were staying. He asked if we were British (thank you!), and we said no, American. Ah, he said, my friend who was here last night has an American friend. We somehow discovered that he was talking of our new friend, GB (Giovanni Battista), who was there just last night, and apparently had mentioned americani nuovo in the area! Such a small world. We introduced ourselves, as did he: Pierluigi. Ah, the light dawned. The wine list was made of his personal selections. He promised that we could buy some of the amaro. Next time…